


wish i'd never seen your (pretty) face

by bratwiththeglasses



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, emotional smut, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratwiththeglasses/pseuds/bratwiththeglasses
Summary: The pair have spent every Valentine’s Day together since they were fifteen years old and Kaoru had made the long-lasting mistake of letting Kojiro kiss him in exactly this spot.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 5
Kudos: 131





	wish i'd never seen your (pretty) face

**Author's Note:**

> work was crazy this weekend so here's the better-late-than-never angsty matchablossom valentine's day smut one of you asked for.  
> also lyrics& inspo from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6mIMJuKQ6c). check it out.

_-_

_(i love your mouth but hate what comes out of it  
sometimes)_

_-_

“I knew it was a bad idea to come here.”

Kojiro is all long legs and muscle mass as he spreads himself out along the thick blanket Kaoru is currently positioned. Their knees tap together gently, a brush of fabric, when Kojiro pulls his legs up to cross one over the other. He’s laid back all casual and cool, typical. It contrasts Kaoru who is graceful and poised as he sits on his heels.

They both sigh for different reasons.

The sun is due to set within the next fifteen minutes and everything is a too soft, golden-pink hue. The cold, dewy grass under the blanket is slowly seeping through the fabric but Kaoru has no intention of still being here once it does.

He supposes this qualifies as a picnic now since Kojiro did not show up empty handed.

Kojiro’s laugh is quiet, deep and full of vibration that sets Kaoru’s teeth on edge. “You knew it was a bad idea and yet--” he says with no intention of finishing his sentence. He doesn’t need to; the pair have spent every Valentine’s Day together since they were fifteen years old and Kaoru had made the long-lasting mistake of letting Kojiro kiss him in exactly this spot.

They have come together in so many ways since then but between the heartache that surrounds each encounter and how it leaves him gradually more empty, Kaoru isn’t sure how much longer it can continue.

The past three months has been their longest separation. Kaoru is embarrassed by his own lack of willpower but knowing Kojiro couldn’t stay away either makes his chest tight, relief and disappointment blended. It feels simultaneously like a win and a loss.

They can’t keep doing this.

“This is a vicious cycle, Kojiro. Neither of us should have come here.”

Kojiro shakes his head. “Vicious cycle,” he repeats, sounding amused in that frustrating way he always does when Kaoru just wants to have a mature conversation. “I like to think of it as tradition.”

He takes out a large bento box from the backpack he’d been carrying and opens it. It’s packed to the brim with all of Kaoru’s favorites, undoubtedly made by Kojiro himself.

It’s no surprise that he is still under Kaoru’s skin, even after all these years. Whatever is between them has proven time and time again that they are incompatible, too different where it matters most. And though Kojiro was once a source of light in Kaoru’s life, the anguish they’ve shrouded each other in has long since burned it out.

And still Kaoru loves him so much that it’s nearly impossible to distinguish the emotion from the hate that’s blossomed alongside it; a seed planted when Kojiro firsted cheated on him, then nurtured with every consequent argument, every stranger’s mouth they put against their own in retaliation, and fully bloomed once they called it off yet never stopped tangling their bodies together. Their hearts too, unwittingly.

Kaoru tells himself he feels nothing for Kojiro but the truth is he feels everything -- and _everything_ blurs together, creating an unnamable emotion that is reserved for Nanjo Kojiro only.

Their eyes meet as Kojiro pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. His lips gleam from the excess juice and Kaoru knows he is defenseless.

“If it’s tradition, I’ll have spread my legs for you by the end of the night—” he starts.

“Mm,” Kojiro hums, mouth full.

“Then you’ll find some poor girl to do the same for you tomorrow night.”

Kojiro plucks another piece of fruit that looks ready to burst and offers it between them. Kaoru reaches out to take it but Kojiro pulls his hand back, shaking his head. He raises an eyebrow and his mouth twists upward, expectant. The cheeky fucking bastard.

Kaoru closes his eyes and leans over, wraps his mouth around the fruit and the tips of Kojiro’s fingers. Kojiro’s thumb lingers against the seam of his bottom lip and Kaoru can’t help himself—he flicks his tongue over it and Kojiro exhales.

“If only you were as smart as you are pretty, Kaoru.”

-

_(you act like i’m nobody  
but you still want to go down on me…)_

_-_

Kojiro’s mouth tastes like bitter nostalgia. Like warmth, youth, and mistakes, mistakes, mistakes. Kaoru feels dizzy, suffocating on every memory of when he’s given in just like this.

Naked and writhing against each other in the mess of Kojiro’s sheets definitely feels like a tradition. Kaoru knows the inevitable nausea and regret that’ll follow will too. But for now he lets himself have it.

It’s impossible to know if fucking Kojiro is good because it’s wrong or because even if he wants to deny it, there’s also a sense of rightness that comes with having Kojiro’s hand between his legs.

“So fucking hot, Kaoru, _shit,_ ” Kojiro moans into his open mouth. His cock is hard and aching, gripped tight in Kojiro’s spit-slick hand, being slowly stripped at an agonizing pace. “Missed your cock, missed the way you sound when I’m touching you.”

Kaoru despises how much Kojiro’s talks while they’re like this. It electrifies his insides and makes his dick twitch. “Shut up and make me come.”

“Not yet,” Kojiro groans, determined. He’s far too practiced with Kaoru’s attempts at a quick escape. Kojiro never makes it easy and deep down, maybe Kaoru doesn’t want him too. “S’been too long.”

Irritation burns under Kaoru’s skin. It’s definitely been a while since anyone has touched him but he doubts the same for Kojiro. He tries his best to suppress the bitterness in his voice when he says, “I’m quite sure you’ve had plenty of women keep your dick warm since the last time we—”

Kojiro’s hand stops abruptly, his eyes narrowed and harsh when he pulls his mouth off Kaoru’s neck to look him in the eye. Brown sears into amber.

Then Kojiro climbs out of bed.

Kaoru is momentarily caught off guard and simply watches him move. There's a thin layer of sweat that contours his muscles, making his shoulder blades shine as well as the curve of his spine that leads down to his maddeningly perfect ass. His choppy green hair is sweaty and pushed back away from his handsome face.

“I don’t want to argue today, babe. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Kaoru winces at the petname. He knows he looks as sour as he feels because Kojiro is smiling with full appled-cheeks when he comes back to the bed.

He lays out cherry flavored lube and a couple bright pink condoms. Kaoru feels sick. “Where to start, he says, patronizing.

Kojiro shrugs. “I figured we could do oral first.”

Kaoru narrows his eyes. “I meant where to start—the trashy flavored lube, the fact you’re a grown man with bright pink condoms which you most likely bought in a questionable vending machine bathroom or,” he counts three individual condoms, “that you think we’re doing this more than once.”

“I like pink.” Kojiro climbs onto the bed, situates himself between Kaoru’s unabashedly spread legs.

“You’re being embarrassing,” Kaoru tells him, brushing fingers through the escaped strands of his hair. Kojiro watches the movement closely. It’s because of his hair that pink is Kojiro’s favorite color. Or so he says, but Kaoru is sure plenty of women have been told otherwise.

“I’m being romantic,” Kojiro corrects. Kaoru almost laughs, tries to glare instead. Kojiro is too familiar and catches it. “I used to make you laugh.”

Kaoru ignores how sad he sounds and instead wraps his bare thighs around Kojiro’s thick waist, slowly rolls his hips so their cocks slide together. He changes the subject, shakes his head. “I’m not letting you fuck me with a pink condom.”

“Then you fuck me this time, Kaoru.”

-

_(i keep wishing you would change)_

_-_

Jealousy lies dormant inside Kaoru until his chest is against Kojiro’s spine, their bodies curved together, cock buried deep inside. Kaoru sucks the skin of Kojiro’s neck and throat between his teeth and Kojiro exhales a breathy, beautifully filthy sound.

Kaoru tries to imagine how many times Kojiro has laid himself bare with another person; the women are countless, surely, but they offer things that Kaoru has no means to provide. Men, however…. It’s hypocritical, Kaoru knows because he’s done the same when loneliness aches too sharply, but the question plagues his entire body now.

He doesn’t want to know.

Kojiro rocks his ass back against him, rough and needy. Kaoru bottoms out, grips his fingers into hip bones, nails digging into flesh while Kojiro reaches back and holds his ponytail in his fist. Kaoru’s body is on fire and his cheeks burn when he says, “Tell me you don’t let anyone else fuck you like this.”

“No one, Kaoru,” Kojiro lies without hesitation. He rotates his hips and pulls Kaoru even deeper. “Only you, only you.”

The darkened room is filled with only the sound of their bodies coming together, the wet sound of their sweaty skin slapping together, heavy breathing, the moans that they elicit from one another with each thrust.

“ _Kojiro,_ ” Kaoru sighs, unable to contain himself. The pleasure licks upward, spreading over his stomach, muscles tensing in his thighs as he fucks into Kojiro under the delusion that he’s the only one. Kaoru’s mind slips easily back to the beginning, when fucking each other this way was something as simple as being young and in love, when he could say things like, “You feel so good, perfect, perfect, so tight for me,” without an ounce of shame.

“Fuck,” Kojiro moans and without warning pulls their bodies apart. Kaoru opens his eyes, wide and surprised, mouth hanging open. He didn’t mean to say any of that outloud, doesn’t even recall closing his eyes. Kojiro flips onto his back and pulls Kaoru to him with legs around his waist. “Need to see your pretty face.”

The momentary pause allows some of the blood to return to Kaoru’s brain and he blinks in the reality of the situation, feels the faint preview of self-hatred that’ll flood his lungs and heart once they’re done. He takes his cock into his hand and lines himself back up with Kojiro’s entrance. “Wish I’d never seen yours.”

The words are bitter, mean, and they sting Kojiro and Kaoru’s own tongue once they leave his mouth. Kaoru kisses him. It feels like an apology but tastes like far less.

They can’t keep doing this.

“Make me come,” Kaoru whispers, as if it’d be a mercy. He even adds a gentle, “Please,” just as his cock slides back into Kojiro, everything slick and tight and painfully good in ways that reach too far inside of him.

Kojiro reaches up and pulls the tie from Kaoru’s mass of hair, it crashes around them like a waterfall and he mindlessly watches as Kojiro slides the elastic over his wrist before burying each hand underneath the loose waves. He grips the roots and yanks Kaoru in so roughly, so close, they no longer feel like two separate bodies.

They kiss more. Slow, careful. It’s far too sensual for Kaoru but he doesn’t pull away. Reality slips, the taste of Kojiro and the velvet heat of his insides making Kaoru dizzy all over again. Their tongues circle around each other, hot and silky. Messy. Imperfect.

Perfect.

Kaoru feels his orgasm building, his hips slapping against Kojiro’s ass as he pushes in over and over again relentlessly. The emotional climax of the evening builds too and he thinks he might say something he’ll truly regret but then Kojiro slips a hand between them and starts stroking himself, working his cock harder and faster than Kaoru is fucking him.

Kojiro challenges, “Only if you make me come first,” and the moment is gone.

Kaoru smiles, pressing their foreheads together and says, “I hate you.”

Kojiro responds with a smile of his own. “I hate you, too.”

Lying is traditional as well.

-

_(hurt me a thousand times before  
but I'm missing you so do it once more)_

_-_

When Kojiro opens his eyes, Kaoru is pulling one of his shirts over his head. He’s lost quite a few the same way. His movement is quick but Kojiro is grateful for the few seconds he’s granted to admire the slim curves of Kaoru’s waist, the markings left on his back, the pink-purple that is already blooming on his neck from Kojiro’s mouth. Longing spreads through him.

Kojiro used to be the only one that knew of Kaoru’s cherry blossom tattoo, the one that spreads over his left thigh and up to his hip. Now he isn’t sure how many others have been blessed to kiss it the same way he has.

But it’s always like this, always has been. Kojiro knows he is not _enough_ ; good enough, strong enough, smart enough, man enough, to figure out how to change what feels so inevitable.

Kaoru will always be out of reach so he takes what he can get, even if it leaves him lost and rung out every time.

Kojiro watches Kaoru attempt to brush fingers through his tangled hair and wonders how many more Valentine’s Days they have left.

“Where the hell is it,” Kaoru mutters to himself, looking around on the floor, briefly through the pile of blankets and sheets on the ground. Then he looks at Kojiro, at the hair tie on his wrist, and when Kojiro pulls his hand under the sheet that’s covering half of his body, their eyes meet. Kojiro thinks he recognizes something there but it disappears before he can name it.

Silence is too loud between them and Kojiro has never known how to deal with it. He ignores the obvious and plays it cool. “Thanks for another sweet Valentine’s Day. Should I clear my schedule for White Day?”

“Goodbye, Kojiro,” Kaoru answers, slipping on his shoes. “Clean your apartment, get your life together.”

“Yeah,” Kojiro agrees but not for the same reason. He watches Kaoru leave through the front door and hates himself for looking forward to the next time it’ll happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> comments inspire me to write more.  
> also; come say hi on tumblr @ creepyx.  
> prompts and requests welcomed!


End file.
